


Razor

by EASchechter



Series: Off the Main Sequence [4]
Category: Cabin Pressure, Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-21
Updated: 2013-04-05
Packaged: 2017-12-06 01:01:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,176
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/729868
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EASchechter/pseuds/EASchechter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Martin needs a shave.</p><p>(Set before Airborne in the "On His Brother-in-Law's Secret Service" universe.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Martin opened the door, walked inside and closed it, letting his bag fall to the floor as he called, "I'm home."

No answer. He frowned and picked his bag up again. Where was everyone? He had just started up the stairs when the door opened behind him.

"Oh!" Livvy gasped. She closed the door and leaned against it. "You're here! You made better time from the airfield than I thought you would."

"Oh, a red-letter day," Martin said with a laugh, coming back down the stairs. "I'm home, and I surprised you."

"Tease." Livvy kissed him warmly, then stepped back, cocked her head to one side and looked at him. "Martin, I know you forgot your razor, but they do have shops in Scotland. Surely you could spend one day and go pick something up?"

"Actually, I thought I'd let it grow," Martin answered, looking at himself in the hall mirror, seeing the two-week growth of mustache and beard. "I thought... perhaps a bit more dignified?"

Livvy looked at him oddly, then sighed. "Tony. You spent time with Tony Stark--"

"I hardly think that spending half an hour with the man counts, Liv."

"He's got that way about him. Martin, you don't have the bone structure to carry off Tony's van dyke."

Martin looked at the mirror again. "You don't like it?"

"It makes you look younger. And unkempt." Livvy took his arm and steered him towards the lift. "Honestly, Sir Darling? You look like a demented artist. And I prefer your bare face."

"A demented artist?" Martin repeated. He ran his hand over his face and grimaced. "That's not good. All right. I'll shave it off. Where's Vee?"

"Sherlock, John and Jim took her to zoo. I think Uncle Lock wanted to see the new tiger exhibit, and he needed an excuse." Livvy smiled. "Edmund is off doing the shopping, so we have a few hours alone."

"Oh?" Martin laughed as they stepped into the lift. "Well, then. We shouldn't waste it. Shower and a shave--"

"And show me what you've been doing for the past two weeks," Livvy said. "What took two weeks for you to master? You're usually so quick with magic."

"It wasn't the magic that took me two weeks. It was the weapons training. Which I'm going to keep up. Buffy recommended a teacher."

"Weapons training?" Livvy stepped out of the lift and led the way down the hall to the master suite. "Darling, what did you learn from Buffy that you couldn't learn from Uncle John?"

"Sword-fighting."

Livvy stopped, turning to face Martin. "A real red letter day. You've surprised me twice. Sword-fighting?"

"It seemed to fit." Martin dropped his bag inside the door, looked at Livvy and smiled. "Ready?"

"Show me." She moved over and sat down on the bed. "You've described it, but... oh!"

Martin knew what she was seeing -- Willow had made him watch the transformation in front of a mirror. The blue fog that rose around him, coalescing into the magical armor that had first manifested during the frantic battle in the streets of New York. It was impressive as hell, enough so that the first time he'd seen himself do it, he'd been so startled that he'd been unable to finish the spell.

When he first started, two weeks ago, he'd fumbled through it, uncertain of what he'd done or how to do it again. Now, after the almost constant drills, he could raise the armor with a thought. This time, though, he deliberately left the sword and shield in what he'd come to think of as his magical closet.

"Oh, Martin," Livvy murmured. "That... that's beautiful. And... it will stop...?"

"Anything short of a bullet," Martin answered. "At least, we think so. No one was willing to try firing on me, and I wasn't willing to let them. But even with a Slayer's strength behind it, nothing got through the armor. And the sword--"

"There's a sword?"

He pulled the sword out of the air. "It goes through anything."

"Oh, my." Livvy covered her mouth with her hand. "Sir Darling indeed."

Martin laughed and dispelled the sword. "Yes. I think that might have been part of it. Now, that shower?"

"Do you want me to shave you?" Livvy asked. "I know how and I have the tools."

"Sh... shave me?" Martin stammered. He let the armor go and looked at Livvy. "You... what?"

"I know how," Livvy repeated. She frowned slightly, studying him. Then her eyes widened. "Oh."

Martin felt his face go hot. "Well, yes. And... where did you learn, might one ask?"

"One might. Sebastian taught me. Apparently..." she hesitated, licked her top lip. "Apparently, you and he shared a kink?"

Martin swallowed. "Yes... well... I'll just go... shower, why don't I?"

As he turned towards the bathroom, Livvy asked, "Should I join you? And should I get the razor?"

"Darling, do you even need to ask?"

 


	2. Chapter 2

 Livvy excused herself from the shower before Martin was done. The better to get things ready, she said. Martin closed his eyes and let the hot water wash over him, rinsing away the conditioner that Livvy had insisted he put on his beard. When he was done, he turned off the water, dried off, and came out of the bathroom with his towel wrapped around his waist. Livvy was standing naked near the window, doing something... oh, yes. Stropping the razor.

"People actually do that?" Martin asked as he came closer.

"You have to. Otherwise you'll destroy your face," Livvy answered without looking up. She kept at it for another few strokes, then peered closely at the blade and nodded. "That's done it. All right. Come and sit here." She gestured to a chair that she'd set near the window.

"Isn't this a bit too close?" Martin nodded towards the closed near-sheer curtains. "I mean..."

"That's why the window and the curtains are closed. I want the light, though. Come and sit." Livvy waited until he was sitting, then licked her lips. "So... tell me about your ideas of how this should go? Because I know what Sebastian liked, and I'm not sure if you'd want me to do that."

Martin frowned, mystified. "Now you're going to have to tell me what you mean. Because all I was expecting was a shave. And maybe some exceptional quality time spent with my wife."

"Maybe?"

"Well, I was going to leave that up to you."

Livvy smiled. "I do love you. Are you sure you want me to tell you?"

"You've already told me quite a bit about Sebastian," Martin pointed out. "Is this something new?"

Livvy nodded, looking down at the razor in her hand. "Baz... he was... well, I told you he was kinky. When I shaved him... he... liked to be tied up."

"Oh." Martin swallowed. "And you want to know if I want that?"

"I wasn't sure. And didn't know how to ask without hurting you."

Martin nodded. "I... see. Thank you. And... you enjoyed that, did you?"

Livvy blushed all the way to her chest. "Yes."

"And you promise to stop if I say so?"

Livvy looked up. "Of course!"

"Then yes. I trust you, Liv." Martin swallowed around the lump in his throat. "I'm willing to try it."

Livvy set the razor down on the small table she'd moved into place under the window, then came over to stand in front of Martin, her knees between his. She leaned down, caught his face between her hands and kissed him. And stood up grimacing.

"It tickles," she complained, and Martin laughed.

"If it means that you'll never kiss me again, then by all means let's have it off!"

Livvy laughed and went to their closet, disappearing inside and coming back out with a pair of scarves. "How do you want me to do this?" she asked.

"What did you used to do to Sebastian?" Martin asked in response.

"He liked his hands behind his back," Livvy answered. "I thought I might do yours to the arms of the chair, though. You might be more comfortable. And do you have any idea how odd this conversation is?"

"I've a pretty good guess, yes. I've never seen you quite this red before, darling."

"Oh?"

"You rival me in the shower that first time."

"Oh!" Livvy giggled and held up the scarves. "All right. Ready?"

"And if I want you to stop?"

"Say 'red'."

A few minutes later, Martin tugged experimentally against the bonds at his wrists, and nodded. "Not going anywhere. Now what?"

Livvy moved the table over next to the chair, spread a towel over Martin's bare chest, then straddled his legs. When he gasped, she smiled. "Now, you get shaved."


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies about the delay! A certain small boy of mine had spring break, so my writing time went away for a week.

 The first thing that Livvy did was pick up a mug and a brush.

"I thought they only did that in the movies," Martin said, watching as she used the brush to create lather.

"You don't use the stuff in the can for this," Livvy answered. "Or at least, that's what Baz taught me. He was a bit of a snob about it, though. Now, sit still."

"Yes, ma'am." Martin closed his eyes as Livvy started working the lather into his beard. There was something sensual about the the slow, deliberate swirls, the feel of the warm lather, and the scratch of the brush against his face. He tipped his head back and relaxed. When she stopped, he murmured, "That feels good."

"If you like this, we can do it more often. Now, don't move."

Before Martin could answer or ask a question, he felt Livvy's fingers, pinching slightly. Not enough to hurt, just enough that she was pulling the skin on the right side of his face taut. Then something cold rested against his cheek for a moment before gliding down, leaving a chill in it's wake. He heard the slight scraping and shivered.

"It's all right," she whispered softly, the razor not stopping. "You have beautiful skin, Martin."

 _Thank you?_ Martin thought crazily, unwilling to actually say the words, because that meant moving. The razor traveled lower, closer to his jaw, slow, smooth sliding that left his skin tingling.

"Very good, Darling," Livvy said. "Now, tip your head back. Like this." She moved him gently, until his head was tipped back and to the left, exposing his throat. Martin swallowed, then realized that doing that was a very bad idea.

"Are you all right?" Livvy asked.

"I... think so," Martin answered. "Just..."

"Nerves?"

"Yeah."

She chuckled, then Martin felt her kiss his cheek. "This is much nicer that the beard." She shifted against him, and Martin was reminded that the only thing separating them was a towel. Livvy didn't stop again, moving him the way she needed, finishing the right side of his throat before moving on to the left side of his face, then the left side of his throat.

"Now, look at me. I need to do your lip and your chin."

"So, that's a no to a mustache, then?"

"You'd look like a serial killer."

Martin burst out laughing. "Well, I imagine that if anyone would know what a serial killer looked like, it would be your father's daughter. All right. Clean shaven it is.

"Don't move," she warned him again, and went to work on his face. It was strange, having her pulling his upper lip down so she could shave off the mustache, then pulling his lower lip up to get his chin. Then she went to work under his chin, again pulling the skin tight and guiding the sharp blade over his naked throat. Martin heard himself whine, tugging hard against the bonds as his wrists as Livvy's body pressed against his chest. The razor stopped moving, resting lightly against his throat.

"This... this is surprising," he heard Livvy say, her voice contemplative. "I... hadn't expected this." The razor moved, and Martin lowered his head to look at her. She looked... almost puzzled.

"Expected what?" Martin asked, not quite managing to keep the squeak out of his voice. He coughed and repeated himself, his voice even this time. "Expected what?"

"I... enjoyed doing this with Baz," she answered, looking at him. "Or I'd never have suggested it. But... not this much."

It took Martin a moment to realize what she was really saying. "You're ... you're turned on? By this?"

"By you," Livvy answered. "By how much trust you're showing me. You've let me tie you up, and you're letting me hold a razor to your throat. That... Martin..." her voice faded, and she shook her head. "I don't have the words. I don't think there are words!"

Martin smiled. "Well, then, since you've gone and told me what this is doing to you, why don't you finish, and I can show you what this is doing to me, hm?"

Livvy smiled slowly and nodded. "Tip your head back."

"Not going to kiss me first?"

"Not until you're done."

Martin laughed and tipped his head back once more, feeling the razor beginning to glide over his skin again. He held very still, trying not to breath or swallow as he felt the blade moving over his adam's apple. Then the blade moved away, and he heard it click as Livvy set it on the table. She wiped his face with the towel that had been draped over his chest, then ran her fingers over his cheek.

"Much nicer," she murmured. Then she took his face in her hands and kissed him; Martin closed his eyes and kissed her back, then laughed against her lips as he freed his wrists and pulled her close.

"What?" Livvy pulled back in surprise, then started laughing. "You... you could have undone those the entire time?"

Martin grinned at her. "Yes. Willow insisted I know how."

"Then... you were humoring me?"

"No. No, I really was nervous. And I really did enjoy what you were doing." He picked up one of the scarves, looked at it, then smiled. "And now, I'm going to show you just how much."

Livvy's eyes widened. "Really? You really... oh."


	4. Chapter 4

 Martin woke up first, and curled around Livvy, her back against his chest, listening to her soft breathing. He could see the bedside clock, and knew that they'd need to get up soon. But it was so nice to just lay here...

Livvy shifted, sighed, then looked over her shoulder. "Hi."

"Hello." Martin propped himself up on his elbow and looked down at her. "Have a nice nap?"

"And a lovely reason for needing that nap. I missed you, Sir Darling." She rolled onto her back and held up her bound wrists. "Do I get untied?"

Martin leaned down and kissed her. "Eventually."

"Martin!"

"When does everyone get home?" Martin asked.

"Edmund is probably home by now. And the grandfathers will be here by half six, for dinner."

Martin looked at the clock again, then sighed. "Not enough time," he said.

"For?"

"To appreciate just how delicious you look, Lady Crieff." Martin caught her bound hands in one hand, pushing them down onto the bed and holding them there, leaning down and claiming Livvy's mouth. She moaned, pulling against his hands... and froze as a buzzer rang.

"Oh, damn!" Martin murmured. "That's Edmund warning us, isn't it?"

"Yes. They must have called ahead that they were on their way. Untie me, please? We should shower."

"Do we have time?" Martin asked, glancing at the scarf and watching the knot unravel.

"I think so. If we hurry."

#

Twenty minutes later, Martin and Livvy were halfway down the stairs when they heard the front door open, and Jim's cheerful voice calling, "We're back!"

"Daddy!" The little red-haired girl in Sherlock's arms squirmed at the sight of Martin. "Granda, down!"

"Granda?" Martin asked as he reached the bottom step. Sherlock put Violet down, and she ran towards Martin. If it could be called running, he thought, scooping her up and hugging her tightly. Most of the time, Vee still had a sort of waddle instead of a walk. "So who told her?"

"She just started calling him that," John answered. "Sherlock is Granda. I'm Grampy, and Jim is--"

"Jimmy," Jim finished. "Only she doesn't quite say it right."

"Dimmy," Sherlock supplied brightly.

"She gets away with it because she's not-quite-three and adorable," Jim said, a warning in his voice that was completely ruined by his laughter.

"You said I was adorable," Sherlock countered.

"And how drunk was I?"

"When did this happen?" John demanded. "I thought we were all agreed on the not-ever-getting-Jim-drunk-again?"

"You were in Cardiff." Sherlock said. "The last time."

"And the getting drunk part?" John asked.

"Was an experiment," Sherlock answered.

"Of course it was." John nodded once, then turned to look at Martin. "How was Scotland?"

"Educational," Martin answered.

"Good. You can show me tomorrow."

Martin grinned and shifted his armload of girl -- Vee curled against him and rested her head on his shoulder, sticking her thumb in her mouth. Martin started to turn to say something to Livvy, and noticed that Jim was looking intently at him.

"Jim?" he asked slowly. "Is... why... why are you staring?"

Jim didn't answer. He came closer, his eyes narrowed, his gaze moving from Martin's face to his hands, then back to his face. Then, before Martin could react, Jim reached out and ran his finger over Martin's cheek.

"Jimmy!" Livvy gasped.

"Well...: Jim said, his voice low. "Well, well. You haven't lost your touch, Liv." He looked at Martin and grinned. "Invest in some good rope, Martin. Trust me."

"Jim, not in front of Vee," John warned.

"Right. Right, sorry," Jim apologized, backing away. "We'll talk later. Liv, you still have the mother of pearl razor?"

"Yes. That's what I used. It seemed... I thought it appropriate."

Martin turned and looked at Livvy, wondering at the wistful tone in her voice. Then he blinked. "Oh. Was that his?"

"Yes. He gave it to me when he taught me--"

"And I gave it to him, when I taught him," Jim finished. "Enjoy it, Martin. Learn to use it."

"I..." Martin stammered. He nodded. "I will. Thank you, Jim. Would you mind if I asked you for pointers?"

"Not at all!" Jim answered with a smile.

"Dinner?" Livvy asked. "Martin can tell you about Scotland, and you can tell us about tigers."

"Sherlock, I thought you were allergic to cats?" Martin asked, going to open the dining room doors.

"I am," Sherlock answered.

"Then why the fascination with tigers?" Martin heard snickering behind him, turned to see John and Jim both starting to laugh. Sherlock scowled at them and stalked over to his usual chair, flinging himself bonelessly into it. Martin looked at Livvy, who looked back at him, an amused expression on her face.

"Papa, how did you not know that tigers are big cats?" she asked as she took Violet from Martin's arms. Sherlock's scowl grew deeper, and Jim whooped with laughter. Martin shook his head and took his seat.

It was good to be home.


End file.
